


hands, touching hands

by daeneryssed



Series: confessa's widojest week 2020 cornucopia [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Widojest Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25164685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeneryssed/pseuds/daeneryssed
Summary: Someone’s been messing with his spell books. Clearly the person was not as stealthy as they thought, what with the fingerprints left in paint on the edges of the book. Caleb just has to get back at Jester.[prompt four: Paint/Soot-Covered Fingers]
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Series: confessa's widojest week 2020 cornucopia [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820233
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56
Collections: Widojest Week 2020





	hands, touching hands

**Author's Note:**

> Yay!! Day 4! More fluff today :D

Someone had been messing with his spell books. Clearly the person was not as stealthy as they thought, what with the faint red paint marks left on the edges of the otherwise plain, brown leather book. Only one person regularly left paints stains from paint-covered fingers.

“Oh Jester,” sighed Caleb fondly, as he flipped through the spell book to find the inevitable drawing of a dick. It took him thirty-seven seconds to find the first one. It had been carved at the edge of one of his discarded rune drawings. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips. It _was_ cute. Well, anything Jester did was cute. 

Caleb would usually let it go. He was generally not a man of pranks; at least not one of the _Chaos Crew_ as Veth, Beau and Jester liked to call themselves. Pranks were funny - his Seeming spell on Fjord still ranked as one of his favourite memories - but he preferred to stay on the sidelines for the most part. 

Except for tonight. Perhaps it was the small swig of ale he had taken after dinner, or maybe he had been stuck in his room studying his books for too long. Whatever it was, Caleb’s mind was seized with a sudden recklessness. 

He had to get back at Jester. 

First, he needed a plan. What should he do? Something that would not immediately reveal his involvement. It could not be anything magic-related. It could not be cat-themed. He could not draw or do accents to save his life, so anything related to that was out. 

It took him a few days to come up with a viable idea that he was content with - a few days in which more paint marks appeared around his room. Blue ones on the shelf where his books had been rearranged; faint green splotches on his blanket, which he flipped to reveal a dick sewn in; yellow ones against the brown of the windowsill where his collection of china cat figurines sat, just so very slightly shifted out of place. 

Caleb’s mind took note of everything. 

He waited until the rest of the Nein inevitably declared the need for a shopping trip. It was an idea that he had planted into their heads: a little remark here about Beau’s coat looking a little worse for wear, which he knew would irk the shit out of her, a small comment that Wursh would be shocked at the transformation in Fjord these days. Caduceus seemed to pick up that Caleb was up to something - more than once, he caught the firbolg watching him with an amused expression. Thankfully, he said nothing. 

It took only a few days before the group decided it was time to explore Rosohna properly. Caleb dutifully followed them, struck up an immensely boring conversation about arcane sigils and their historical origins -

“and it seems that if I just manipulated them into the more ancient elven designs, I might be able to make them stronger by tapping into what was essentially high magic sources of power”

\- and waited for the predictable interruption by Beau. 

“Caleb, shut up, please.” 

“Well, I was just trying to make conversation,” he replied, maintaining a straight face although internally he was high-fiving himself. “You did not have to be rude about it.”

“No one wants this conversation with you.”

“No, no, that’s not true,” Veth jumped in immediately. “We were listening.”

“We weren’t,” muttered Fjord under his breath. 

“I think it’s pretty interesting,” said Jester, coming up to Caleb’s side. “We should show Essek the sigils next time. I could teach them to him.” She wiggled her eyebrows, making Caleb chuckle - he recalled their last lesson with Essek very well. 

The inside joke made his heart beat just a little faster. Oh, if he could share many more inside jokes with her. Perhaps this would be another one. 

“Well,” he said, feeling reluctant to end the conversation with her but knowing this was his chance to escape the group, “I am going to the Marble Tomes Conservatory to read up on the sigils, now that we have access to it. I was going to ask if you wanted to come along, Beau-”

“No.”

“Okay, that was fast,” he said, even as he gave himself another mental high-five. “I’ll also be transcribing some spells, so do not expect me back for some time.”

He could have sworn there was a flash of disappointment of Jester’s face. It was wiped clean very quickly.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Right, okay. Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye!” 

Caleb reassured himself that he would be making Jester laugh very soon. 

He made his way towards the Conservatory for another ten minutes, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder, before he took a sharp turn back to the Xhorhaus. The excitement grew with every step he took. 

By the time he entered the house, he was practically vibrating with adrenaline. He took the stairs up two at a time, a boyish glee electrifying his veins. He could not remember the last time he had felt so exhilarated at the chance to play a prank. It had been...many years. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, and forcing himself to stay in the present, he mentally asked Frumpkin to plant himself at the front of the house and warn him should anyone approach. Then, Caleb slipped himself into Beau and Jester’s room. 

A blush rose to his cheeks once he stepped in. It was not entirely proper that he was sneaking about in the girls’ rooms this way. Not that they would mind, surely, not for this purpose, and not when the group often shared tight sleeping quarters. Still, Caleb made sure to check that there was nothing that was inappropriate for him to have seen; there did not seem to be. Other than Jester’s mess of paints and sketchbooks on the table, the room was quite neat, as it had always been. 

“Okay,” he spoke out loud to himself, producing a flame in one hand and using it to light a candle in the room, “where to begin?”

First, he went over to Jester’s bed, the easiest place to start. Setting his ink bottle down onto the wooden floor, he leaned in close with one hand holding a quill and the other braced against the mattress and began to draw the tiniest of dicks on the frame. He was not an artist. The dick looked like a bloated sausage with a malformed end. However, the important thing was that it was recognisable as the appendage, and that was reasonably successful, in his modest opinion. 

Caleb repeated this process for other things in the room. He drew it on a pamphlet of the Traveler left haphazardly on her bedside table. He found one of the little bells she sometimes affixed to her horns and drew one on that too, blowing on the ink so that it quickly dried before it flowed down the smooth metal surface. He failed and it looked as if the dick was...well. Jester would no doubt cackle at that. 

He made his way over to her table. Here, Caleb hesitated. He did not want to pry into her drawings, which he knew were a way for her to communicate with the Traveler - even if she _had_ gone through his own things. Instead, he chose one of her paintbrushes and drew a tiny dick onto the handle. 

After the third brush was done, Caleb decided this was more than enough for a day’s work. Feeling immensely satisfied with himself, Caleb brushed his hands on his robes, stood up and turned to exit the room -

\- where he came face to face with a smirking Jester Lavorre. 

“Ah!!” he yelped, stumbling back. 

Jester burst into laughter. “Cayyylebbbb, did I scare you?”

“Scheisse!” he swore, clutching his heart. “How did you- how long- why didn’t Frumpkin warn me?”

“Oh I saw Frumpkin when I was coming up the street,” said Jester, looking mighty proud of herself as she skipped into the room. “I thought that was _pretty_ suspicious so I dimension doored right. Into. The. House.” She punctuated each word with a little hop towards him, fangs bared in a wide grin. “You were _so_ focused on painting that you didn’t even hear me open the door and peek in.”

Caleb groaned, planting his face into his hands. “You found me.”

“Well, I _am_ the trickster here, Cayleb, you don’t have to be ashamed.” He felt a pat on his shoulder. “You did _pretty_ good to be honest. I am very proud of you. And what were you drawing? Ooh, tell me it was a dick!” 

Caleb sighed, dejected that he had not been able to surprise her. “Ja, they were not very good dicks I must admit.”

“Oh! THEY? Don’t tell me where they are! I will find them. Oh, oh, I bet you drew something on my bed.”

It was hard to remain sad in the face of her exuberance. At the very least, he had given her a small treasure hunt. “Okay, you can try to find them.” 

He watched as Jester dropped to her knees beside her bed and immediately began to inspect the frame. Caleb’s heart grew inside his chest. She was a joy. 

“Wait,” he said, as a thought struck him, “how come you are back so quickly?”

“Oh, you said you were going to be gone for a while so I thought this was the perfect chance to...to…” Jester paused, looking like she had been caught red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar. “To...you know, like, bake cookies for you. Or something.”

Caleb smirked. “Right. It was not to paint more dicks in my room?”

It was Jester’s turn to groan. “AW MAN. So you did notice. I figured as much because why else would you be painting dicks in _my_ room right?” She picked at a splinter on the bed-frame. “How quickly did you find out about it? You haven’t said anything.”

“Well, I am a very observant man. Also, there were paint marks all over my room. I think I even saw a full set of fingerprints.”

“Aw _maaaan_ ,” said Jester again, laughing a little bit to herself. She held up her hands, the fingertips visibly covered with all manner of colours. “Yeah, I’m pretty messy. They get stained all the time.” She examined her hands for a while, glaring at them as if they had betrayed her, before her eyes lifted and seemed to catch on something on the bed. “Although...I think I’m not the only one who is messy.”

“What do you mean?”

Jester giggled. “Cayyylebb, have you been playing with fire?”

“What?”

She pointed to a smudge on her blanket. Walking over and kneeling down, Caleb realised that it was a set of five...fingerprints? And the smudge was soot. 

“Shit,” he said, holding up his left hand. The fingerprints were decently clean now but still bore some evidence of soot. He had produced a flame in the hand to light the candle and touched her bed with it. 

“I also found the dick,” said Jester, giggling again beside him. “This is a very nice dick of yours, Caleb.”

He shot her a withering look even as a smile began to tug at his lips. “You are a silly goose.” 

“And you are a dirty wizard.” She reached out to gently tug at his hand, turning it over with one hand and touching his soot-covered fingertips lightly with the other. Caleb couldn’t breathe, couldn’t resist, as she did so; he could only watch, every brush of her fingers against his own skin electric. “Although, I guess I am dirty too,” and at this, she turned her own hand over, next to his, fingertips stained with paint. 

“Ja,” he could only whisper. Jester’s eyes came up to meet his. 

It was an intense moment that could have lasted two seconds or two millenia. 

_Caduceus is back,_ Frumpkin pinged in his head. 

Caleb started, breaking the moment. Jester dropped his hand. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing, uh, it was Frumpkin, that’s all. Caduceus is back.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

They both sat there, on their haunches, looking at each other. Caleb swallowed hard. What was there to say? What could he say? What had just happened? 

Jester was blushing furiously. Jester. Blushing. Because of...him?

“Better, ah, better find those dicks, huh?” he said, squeaked really. 

“Ya, ya, time to find dicks.”

They staggered to their feet, Caleb rushing out of the room. It was too much. Too much. His brain couldn’t even think. 

As he walked, no, stumbled towards the stairs, one thought broke through. One single thought. 

Caleb wrestled with himself for a few seconds, the urge to tell her fighting his overwhelming cowardice. Below, the windchime tinkled as Caduceus entered the house. He heard the meow of Frumpkin. 

It somehow made his decision. He turned on his heel and rushed back into the room. Jester was still standing in the middle of it, looking into her hand. 

“Your fingers are perfect!” he almost yelled out. Jester blinked at him, looking caught off-guard. 

“What?” she said. 

“Your fingers,” he repeated. “Your fingers are perfect. They aren’t dirty. They are-” He didn’t know where he was going with this. “They represent you. You know, your art. Also, I did not touch your drawings because I know they mean a lot to you. I just wanted you to know.” 

“Oh. I-” Jester began to smile. “Thank you. To both. My hands and well, not touching my art. I also only touched the spellbooks that you know, you have shown us before. Not any of your other journals.”

“Ja, I know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

This time, they lingered a bit in each other’s presence, both with shy smiles on their faces. 

“I’ll see you for dinner,” he finally said. 

“I’ll see you for dinner,” she replied. 

This time, he left with his spirits high, his heart light and probably the stupidest grin on his face. This was a lot to process, a lot to handle. But for now, he could just...he could just be happy. 

He could just be happy. 

  
  
  



End file.
